


si te mueres mañana

by viraseii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Hinted Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt, Knives, Lance (Voltron) is Missing, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii
Summary: Lance gets his hands on some intel he shouldn't have, and now he's been taken by the Galra, a generations-old gang that controls half of the city of Altea. Pidge is on a mission to get her "friend" back.Writen for@rueitaeon tumblr as part of thelangstron gift exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rueitae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/gifts).

> MAN im so sorry i tried REAL hard to finish this in time but for now take this,,,,,, it's about half done, and i'll be updating it regularly until it's finished!!! im so sorry for waiting for the last day to post this but it's still the 31st so it's still not late
> 
> the setting for this fic is inspired by [ciitadel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciitadel/pseuds/ciitadel) and her brilliant mind. Check out her work, she's incredibly talented and i dont think I'd ever have the courage to write something so action-packed and tense if i didnt have her writing as example.

The day is sunny, and it shouldn’t be.

Lance feels outraged that it isn’t raining and thundering outside, when so much is happening.

“I won’t show anyone that footage, I promise,” he murmurs weakly, looking up at the impassive boy sitting in the corner with a gun.

The boy raises his eyes. “We don’t care, probably,” he says. “You don’t exist anymore, Lance.”

Lance leans back, tears pricking his eyes. His wrists are raw from struggling, his stomach is pleading for relief from its aching emptiness, and he thinks he might be breaking out from the stress of sitting here for so many hours. Sunlight streams lazily through the window.

It’s a standard room. White walls, wooden chairs, an old leather couch in the corner, empty fireplace, sheer white curtains. So suburban, if Lance tries really hard he can picture the smell of something baking in the oven, maybe cookies or a cake or even leche flan. He should cut that train of thought short right there, though, if he doesn’t want his stomach to eat a hole through his body.

Lucky for him, listening to the safety of the gun click on and off is nauseating enough in its own right.

“Seriously, I won’t. I’ll even campaign for Lotor’s reelection. I’ll pretend I dropped my phone. I’ll - I’ll support whatever you need me to support.”

The boy doesn’t respond.

“It’s a great deal for you guys! Like, you get a supporter who isn’t even part of your gang! More power and influence and stuff, right?”

The boy flicks his eyes over to him, a spark of intrigue in his expression. “You’d do whatever we need from you, huh?”

Lance swallows. Could this work? “Yeah, absolutely. I mean, all I want is me and my family safe. I’ll work with you guys in secret if that can happen.”

The boy stands, swaggers over to Lance’s chair, swinging the gun around his finger much too carelessly for Lance’s comfort. He leans over, placing his free hand on the wall above Lance’s head to brace himself. “You’re ready to throw away all your previous alliances, ready to drop everything and answer to us at any moment’s notice, ready to bind yourself to our group for the rest of your life?”

Lance hesitates. He thinks about his mom, about his dad - killed by the Galra several years ago - about his friends - Hunk, so pure hearted and working so hard politically against the Galra, Keith, so badass in his own right and independent, Pidge-

“Y-Yeah. I am.”

The boy smiles. “No, you’re not.” Then the cool metal of the gun is pressing into Lance’s head from the side.

“Wait, wait-...!”

_BANG._

Lance shrieks, squeezing his eyes so hard tears spring out, hanging wetly on his eyelashes.

The boy snorts and goes back to his post in the chair across the room.

Lance opens one eye, then the other. He’s... not dead. His heart beating a million times a second definitely confirms that. His eyes lock into the other boy, horrified, sweat starting to drip down the back of his neck.

“There was only one blank in there,” the boy warns.

Lance closes his eyes and leans back again, resting his head against the wall.

He really, really messed up.

-

**lance deadass if u dont respond im gonna track ur phone**

**ive been waiting here for half a goddamn hour and i havent heard from you**

**i dont wanna go home if u show up just disastrously late**

-

**have you heard from lance**

**Keithy Boy:** Why the fuck would I have heard from lance

-

**hey hunk have you seen lance did he say anything different about his plans todag**

**Honey Man:** He’s not with you?

**Honey Man:** I thought you guys were shooting for your podcast

**yeah that was um. the plan.**

**Honey Man:** Dunno man maybe he’s asleep

-

Pidge waits another half hour before giving up, worry feathering the edges of her thoughts as she tries to convince herself everything is fine. Lance probably fell asleep. Or was playing video games. Maybe he was hanging out with someone else - although it hurts that he didn’t tell Pidge about it, if it’s true.

The pit in her gut doesn’t let her relax, though, offering little help as she sways with the speed of the train back home. Something just... feels wrong. It’s not like Lance to do anything without talking everyone’s ear off about it, as annoying (endearing) as it is. His silence is... unnerving, to put it lightly.

She tries to do homework for another hour. When it quickly becomes clear that’s not going to work, she tries playing League with Keith, but she just- she just can’t-

“Pidge, you good? You’re kind of…”

“Sucking major ass?”

There’s an awkward silence on the other end of the line.

Pidge leans back in her chair, brow aching from her persistent frowning. Fingers creep up the sides of her face to massage her temples. “I haven’t heard from Lance, Keith.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I haven’t _heard_ from him. Normally he never stops running his mouth-“

“I’m aware.”

Pidge snorts. “But like.... he hasn’t texted me all day. We were supposed to meet up, I mean, maybe he ditched me for some other skanky girl but-... I mean, he would have told me, right?”

“Don’t call girls skanks.”

“I’m sorry. I’m worried.”

“And jealous?”

“You’re not _helping,_” Pidge says, frustration and embarrassment heating her face. Her throat closes up and suddenly she can’t speak.

There’s a tense silence as Keith figures out how to rectify the situation, probably.

“Pidge, I...”

Wait for it.

“Look, Lance is probably fine. He’s moody at the best of times... which, I know I’m not the best person to be saying that, but that’s also why I guess I can understand how sometimes you just don’t want to talk to anyone... I, um.”

Waaaaait for it.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is you don’t need to worry. He bounces back from things like a rubber ball. So if anything is wrong, it won’t last. Maybe you should try to get to sleep. I know you worry about him a lot and that’s really sweet, but don’t hurt yourself over it.”

There it is.

Pidge smiles, nerves calmed a little.

“Thanks, Keith.”

“Yeah.”

-

She can’t fall asleep, though. She eyes her laptop - it’s 11:30 at night, and Lance sleeps early like a grandmother, so if everything is fine, he’ll be asleep, his phone will be charging, and it’ll pop up in his room. She knows her friends don’t like her invading their privacy, but-

Well, it’s not going to make anything worse, right? It’s just to check if he’s okay.

She shouldn’t.

But it’s- it’s _Lance_ and-

And if something _is_ wrong-

Pidge swings her legs out of her bed, padding over to her desk and sinking into the worn leather of her chair. It’ll take, like, two minutes to get her software up and running - she already has Lance’s phone in her history. Her fingers drum impatiently on the desk waiting for the results of her search. Her mouth stretches in a yawn, and then-

_Bip._

She rereads the pop-up over and over, trying to understand what it means. _NO SIGNAL DETECTED,_ in big, angry red letters. No signal detected? Did Lance’s phone die?

She runs it backwards, going back chronologically to the last time his cell service was picked up - and after a couple more minutes, a small dot pops up on her map.

“Weird,” she murmurs. “I waited there for you for an hour.”

The time signature reads 2:36, and she’d gotten there at 3:05. Had she missed him? She’ll throw something if it turns out he got there early and thought _Pidge_ was the one who ditched.

And then, just like that - the signal vanishes on the playback. Cut. Dead. Gone.

There’s no way Lance could live from 2:30 to 11:30 without charging his phone. There’s _no way._

“Where did you go, Lance?” Pidge mumbles, scrubbing through the playback and running her program to look at all outgoing signals. Something is definitely not right here. There’s a barrage of text messages she hopes she won’t have to go through, because that’s a little too much like something Hunk would do. There are plenty of incoming notifications. Snapchat is his most used app. Instagram is consistently blowing up. Photos are popping up in his cloud - and then a video, just one, of the graffiti yard.

She clicks one. “Alright, so I got here early so I can surprise Pidge with- wait wait, there’s someone else here.” There’s some scrabbling as Lance hides behind a wall. “Ugh, this place is disgusting, so much trash! I really don’t want these people to think I’m an illegal graffiti person.”

“Graffiti artist,” Pidge laughs softly into the dry air. Her heart is soft at the ‘surprise Pidge.’

“Holy shit, are these Galra?”

Pidge’s blood freezes under her skin.

There’s more gentle noises as Lance moves further back along the wall to make sure he stays out of the way. Judging by the swinging of the camera and pauses in his speech, though, he’s probably still peeking around to steal glances at his unexpected company.

“This is kinda bad. We’ve never done an episode focused on the Galra because - that’s dangerous,” a nervous laugh. “But if you’re keeping up with our podcast you have a good idea of what they get up to here. Figures they’d meet up in a graffiti yard, god, we’re so stupid.”

Another pause.

“This is really out of their area, though, I wonder what... hold on.” There’s a horrific scraping noise and blurs of blackish hues as Lance slides his phone against the wall so the tip of the camera is peeking over the left side of it, and then some shaking as he angles it sideways to catch the people in question.

Pidge shivers. The pit in her stomach is back, roiling in full force - something’s going to go wrong, and this is, what, nine hours ago?

A car pulls up across the yard, and one man in a crisp suit steps out. His long white hair is unmistakable. It’s Lotor Daibazaal, mayor of Altea.

Pidge can’t breathe. Her heart is in her throat.

Lotor strides forward, shaking hands with a well-muscled young man who then picks up a briefcase and opens it, showing off the contents to the Mayor.

It’s cold, hard, cash.

She can’t make out the murmur of voices through the footage, but it’s not hard to guess - the Galra struck some deal with their city’s corrupt Mayor. And with re-elections coming up next year...

She leans back, watching them exchange inaudible words. This is- this is bad. Lance unknowingly stumbled into some shady deal between the Galra and the fucking Mayor of Altea. Footage like this can send Lotor’s entire career plummeting, and for the Galra that will probably mean losing a powerful partner and considerable influence.

“Holy shit, Lance,” she breathes.

The Galra on screen shake hands with the Mayor again, and then turn, heading back toward the wall Lance is hiding against. Pidge’s blood rushes as she watches, the video angle changing as Lance frantically searches for somewhere else to hide.

The camera continues to film as he makes for the other end of the wall, hoping to run around it at the same time as the Galra cross on the other side, supposedly, but as soon as he turns the corner, he runs smack into the well-muscled man from earlier.

The eyes of the man flick from above the camera, down to the phone, and then back, and then - quick as a flash, he’s drawing a gun and holding it past the screen.

The camera moves, its vantage point raising into the air.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“L-Lance??” Lance’s voice is shrill, panicked. “I was just, uh, walking! Nothing else! I didn’t know anyone was uh- I’m just, just. Minding my own business.... um, my dog ran off? I was looking for him-“

Pidge whimpers as the gun cocks loudly. “How long have you been listening, Lance?”

“Not long-“ the phone switches camera view, then falls.

She’s looking up at Lance, all of a sudden, his pale and sweaty face staring at the camera, horrified. Pidge wishes she could reach through the recording and take him, bring him back to the present.

The man lowers his gun, aims at the camera. There’s a loud bang-

Pidge yelps as the screen goes black, replay button popping up. Holy shit. Holy _shit._ The pit in her stomach has grown into a monster, banging and wailing at her from the inside like she isn’t already aware of what this means.

Lance is definitely, inarguably in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BOISSSSSS
> 
> so here's chapter 2. this was actually done back when i posted the first chapter but i wanted to give myself more time to finish chapter 3..... and ended up not using any of it, so deepest apologies if the next chapter takes longer. no one ever let me sign up for a fandom event e v e r a g a i n

Pidge can’t wait for Keith to show up at the library like they planned - she wakes up early the next morning and walks to his house, lonely and sparsely decorated. He doesn’t answer the first three times she rings his doorbell, so she resorts to clicking the button again and again until she hears an angry, _“I’m coming,”_ from inside.

“Hurry up, Keith,” she says, sounding just as cranky, which frankly made her the scarier one of the two. Keith unlocks the door and yanks it open, glaring at her blearily.

“What,” he snaps.

She nods toward the dark interior. “Let me in.”

“No.”

She shoves past him, taking a seat on his single couch in the living room. “Get over here, close the door, I don’t want anyone else to listen to this.”

“You’re freaking me out, Pidge,” Keith says, pausing for a moment to study her and then _finally_ letting the door swing back into place, locking it.

“You should be. Come here.”

He sits obediently.

“I need you to get me an in with the Galra.”

Keith goes pale, and Pidge is glad she waited for him to sit down before asking. “I… Um…”

“I know your family has ties with them. I- … well, it doesn’t matter how I know, but I’m not holding it against you, Keith. You’re a decent guy. And if you want to show it, you’ll help me do this.” Keith’s eyes are big and wide, horrified as her words sink in. “Please.”

“No,” Keith says. “Do you hear yourself? Why the fuck would you..? Who else knows?”

Pidge shrugs. “Shiro did.”

Keith winces. “I mean who else… did you tell.”

“No one, Keith, I’m not going to spill your business. But I need this favor from you.” She slides her phone out of her pocket and sets it on the table, clicking open the video she downloaded. “This is the most recent thing from Lance’s phone I could find in the cloud.”

Keith’s eyes flicker back and forth between her and the screen, and then he reaches forward to tilt the phone so he can see properly.

He looks sick as the scene plays out, but not… surprised. “Oh,” he whispers when the video ends.

“I need to-”

“You can’t do anything about this, Pidge,” he says softly.

“Bullshit. You got Shiro out when they took him,” she argues. “How is this any different?”

Keith’s eyes flash up to her. “One, I don’t know how you know that, but I’m not going to ask, and two - yeah, I got _most_ of him out. You ever consider I’m the reason he lives in a rehab facility? You think I want the guilt of another person in there on my conscience?”

“So you’re going to let him go? These are your people-”

_“The Galra are not my people.”_

Pidge falls short, realizing quickly she’s struck a wrong nerve. There’s a tense silence as she waits.

“You want to know what the best course of action here is? Forget about him. He’s as good as dead. Don’t think about how he’s doing or where he is-”

Pidge shoves him in the shoulder hard before he can continue. “I can’t do that, Keith.” Her voice comes out wrecked, stretched thin and weary.

His eyes lower, red rising to his cheeks when he realizes she’s on the verge of tears.

“If you’re not going to help me, I’m going to do this alone,” she says firmly. Pidge waits another few minutes for Keith to say something, looking up at the shitty clock on the wall with the second hand that doesn’t work.

“Okay,” he says, after a good four. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

Relief sparks through Pidge at the relent in his voice. “That’s not enough. Promise me you’ll do everything you can to help me.”

Keith’s face hardens. “I can’t.”

Pidge looks at him imploringly, pleading with her eyes.

“I’ll try to figure some stuff out and help you, but I’m not getting involved with the Galra any more than that. Not again, Pidge.”

Pidge sighs softly and leans back an inch. This is already probably farther than Keith’s willing to go. She tries not to feel too let down and smiles. “Thank you, Keith.”

He looks like he’s been handed a sentence. “Yeah.”

“So how soon can we, like… go break him out?”

He rubs his hand over his face. “It’s not very simple, Pidge. Can we figure this out in the evening?”

“No!”

Keith blinks at her.

Pidge breathes in shakily. “Sorry, I just…” She tries to calm herself. “I’m driving myself insane, Keith, if I sit here and do nothing I won’t be able to handle it.”

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.” A pause, and a grimace - like he’s about to say something he might regret. “I think I know somewhere we can go. Do you have a knife or anything?”

She grins, sitting back on her heels. “Yes!! Thank you, Keith! Hold on, I-” Pidge reaches back toward her backpack, gingerly feeling around her water bottle pocket. She comes back with a short bread knife.

Keith turns his head away and leans back, but Pidge catches his smile before he can cover it behind his hand. She pouts at him.

“What!”

“Okay. You’re going to stay with me and listen to me if I tell you to ditch and run, okay?” He reaches over to the table in the middle of the room, digging his hands under the edge and lifting up its top. Inside, there are several boxes and rolled up pieces of cloth. He selects one and tosses it to her. “Keep that on you.”

Pidge unrolls it carefully, gasping at the glinting pocket knife inside. “You just keep a bunch of these in your house?” She eyes the table, trying to guess just _how many_ more were in there.

“Oh, a secret you haven’t already stalked out of me?” He smiles at her, a little painfully. “I try not to think about it too much.” Keith stands up and disappears around the hallway, coming back to toss her a black helmet. “Let’s go.”

“Holy shit, you’re letting me ride with you on your bike?”

“Let’s _go._”

-

Keith parks his bike in front of a local coffee shop.

“You can let go, Pidge,” he says, reaching up and pulling off his helmet. She snatches her hands back, embarrassed.

“Um, I was _gonna._” Keith swings his leg over and hops off like he’s done it a thousand times, which… yeah.

“Didn’t feel like it.” He smirks, watching as she slowly pulls off the helmet. “Your hair’s a mess.”

She sticks her tongue out. “Why are we here? The Galra restocking their caffeine or something?”

Keith watches her shift forward slowly as she tries to see if her feet will reach the ground - nope, she’s gotta jump. She makes the hop with considerably less grace than her friend. “I’m here for breakfast.”

She raises her eyebrows.

Keith shrugs. “Want anything?” Then he turns away from her and heads into the shop.

Inside, they sit at a booth in the corner. Keith pulls out his phone, tapping at it with tired concentration until their coffee is here, and then finally looks up at Pidge. “We’re going to go talk to a friend of mine - his name is Thace. He helped me out last time when I broke Shiro out. He’s been with the Galra for years and he’s got decent information most of the time.” He plucks a napkin from its holder and taps the pen he nabbed from the counter against the table. “He’s agreed to meet us in an old lot.”

Keith draws a rough square on the napkin, and then two long rectangles on either side. “It’s been blocked off by urban sprawl, so these are old buildings on either side. This is the basketball hoop - it doesn’t look like one anymore, but it’s the only upstanding structure in the whole area, you’ll recognize it. We’re going to be coming through here.” He draws an arrow at one corner, near the basketball hoop. “Right through Galra-marked territory. We should be fine as long as you don’t _look_ like you’re nervous. Right here there’s a little hole in the wall, and there’s usually a gun and some rounds in there. Anything goes wrong, you get that gun, go through this window here - and you don’t look back.”

Pidge’s heart thuds faster with every word. “Why are you telling me all this? I thought he was your friend.”

Keith looks up at her, then back down, hesitating before continuing. “This isn’t just about today. If you’re going after Lance, then you’ve got to remember what I’m telling you right now. You need to learn to catalogue your entire environment. You need to look for places there could be hidden weapons - chances are, the deeper it is in Galra territory, the more likely you are to find something useful if you get stuck.” He looks her dead in the eye - which is unusual, for Keith. “I don’t want you hurt, Pidge.”

She thinks it’s that moment that it fully sinks in what she’s getting herself into.

She breathes in, eyes tracing the pen strokes on Keith’s napkin.

“Me neither, trust me.” She nods at Keith. “Give me all you’ve got.”

-

Pidge is insanely on edge as Keith and she wait near the basketball hoop. She can’t stop gripping her phone tightly, one hand on her hip over where the pocketknife is jammed into her belt.

Keith raises an eyebrow, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He smacks her arm lightly with the back of his hand. “Relax.”

“You tell me all that shit about guns and running and jumping out windows, and you want me to relax?” she hisses back.

He wraps an arm around her absently, patting her back once before squeezing her shoulder. “I also said we’ll be fine as long as we don’t _look_ nervous, and you look like a trainwreck.”

She scowls. The gesture is frustratingly reminiscent of the way Lance acts around her, and the thought helps to center her and focus on the task at hand. She’s here to get information about Lance - and that means she can’t do anything to jeopardize his chance of making it out of this safely.

Thace shows up after another ten minutes - he steps out from the adjacent alley and Keith shifts, standing taller and leaning so he’s slightly in front of Pidge. “Thace,” he greets. “Spit that shit out.”

Thace is a tall man in a dark jacket, cigarette in his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at Keith and plucks it from his lips, grinding the lit end against the wall. Pidge wrinkles her nose at the smell, and it doesn’t go unnoticed - Thace’s eyes snap to her and give her a quick once-over.

“I should tell you right away that there’s not much I can do to help you,” he starts. “I need to keep a low profile for a bit. Coming here was of great risk to me.”

“Believe me, I’m grateful,” Keith assures him. “We have a friend who meant missing yesterday-”

Thace blows out a huff of air, leaning against the wall. “You brought me out here to talk about a missing kid?”

“The Galra took him somewhere,” Pidge says, soft but urgent. “I’m going to get him back, whatever it takes.”

“I admire your tenacity, kid,” Thace says. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“She knows,” Keith interrupts before Pidge can respond. “Don’t underestimate her. I want to know what you can tell me about anything important in the last couple weeks. We don’t think our friend is just another regular missing person case.”

“If you’re implying your friend got involved with the Galra, he knew what he was getting into,” Thace says, and Pidge grinds her teeth. They were both talking right over each other, speaking in riddle and getting nowhere. “If it’s something like drugs, or guns, or sex, I don’t know anything of use.”

“Try something more political,” Keith suggests.

“Lance caught your guys making a deal with the Mayor,” Pidge spits, gritting her teeth. “We need to know where he is. I don’t give a shit about what corruption you guys are sowing, I want my friend back and I’m going to go get him, so if you have information for me I want it now. Otherwise, I have other places to spend my time.”

Thace glares at her, and Keith visibly tenses, though his posture still drips with nonchalance.

“Please,” Pidge adds venomously.

Thace flicks his eyes to Keith and then back to Pidge. “I like you. What’s your name?”

“Pidge,” she answers, despite Keith grabbing her wrist.

“Pidge, if your friend Lance stumbled upon something so sensitive, there’s a good chance they don’t plan on letting him go any time soon. If he’s a capable man, they might try to recruit him. Otherwise, there’s probably not long until there’s nothing left to save, if he’s not dead already.”

“He’s not,” Pidge says, firm. “He’s still alive.”

Thace remains impassive. “If the Galra want to silence someone, they kill them. If they want to keep them, they’re usually dragged around with whoever found them until they get to HQ and figure out where to go from there. The deal with Lotor is managed by people a lot higher up than where my status is, so he’s likely already with HQ. You don’t have a lot of time.”

“How do I get to him?” Pidge demands.

“You can’t,” Keith cuts in. “This is ridiculous, you’re not going to HQ.”

“I think we’ll let Pidge speak for herself,” Thace says, brushing Keith off without even a glance, who bristles at the dismissal. “If you want to get to HQ, the most basic thing you’ll need is a cover, a reason to be there. You need an escape route, and you need allies.”

“Well, I’ve gained two in half as many days, I think I can manage,” Pidge says, looking at Thace pointedly in the eye.

He cracks a smile at that. “Yeah, I can see why the two of you are friends.” He looks at Keith. “I’m going to be turning you in, then.”

“No,” Keith refuses, face ghostly. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Not much of any other reason to bring a random college girl to HQ,” Thace says. “If we can’t get in under the guise of captivity, then, Pidge, you’re going to have to operate completely undercover.”

Pidge wracks her brain. “How do we do that?”

Keith lets out a long breath. “You take the train.”

“That’s the easiest way to get close,” Thace agrees. “It’ll be harder this time.”

“We can figure it out,” Keith says. He turns to leave, gripping Pidge’s arm tightly.

“I know where he is,” Thace says then.

Pidge whips her head around. Keith pauses. “Now, why didn’t you open with that?” he says lowly.

“I was trying to keep you here a while,” Thace murmurs. Then, so low, Pidge can barely hear it. “You have ten minutes left to get out.”

Keith glares back at him. “Where is he, then?”

Thace pauses. “Acxa’s place. You won’t have to worry too much about finding a way in, though.”

“Get out,” Keith tells Pidge, gripping her so tightly it hurts, and then letting her go with a shove. She stumbles back and almost falls.

“Keith-”

_“Get out!”_ Keith levels her with a glare that whispers with panic underneath the anger, and she turns and runs as Thace grunts loudly, followed quickly by the sound of metal on metal. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest. She has to trust that Keith will be okay - he’s done this before, right? She replays his words in her mind - _listen to me if I tell you to ditch and run._

Pidge races to the corner of the courtyard where Keith mentioned there would be a gun - there are in fact _three_ holes in the wall big enough to hide something, so Pidge thrusts her hands into two of them at once. The fingers on her left hand brush against something cold, and she grabs the gun, whipping her head back around and aiming it at Thace.

Keith is right behind her. He grabs the gun out of her hands. “Let’s go!” he growls, and grabs her wrist with the other hand, pulling her behind him as he rushes into the darkened building.

The bike is a few blocks away - Keith hauls her, tripping and gasping, back to where it’s tucked into a corner off the street, weaving from building to building through indoor corridors until they burst back out into the light. He doesn’t bother with the helmet at all, leaving it strapped to the bag at the back in favor of helping Pidge get on and then swinging on himself, behind her.

“Duck your head,” he murmurs in her ear, turning the keys in the ignition. Pidge makes herself very small, tucking herself back against Keith’s chest and gripping the leather of the seat beneath her. “I can’t see over your fluffy hair.”

She headbutts him in response.

They make it out without any more hitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THERE'S THAT. is thace on their side or nah click to find out more TRUE STORY NOT CLICKBAIT
> 
> keith is such a good friend huh


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i KNOW this is a short chapter but chapter 4 is gonna be a doozy so. short respite from the action? i've just moved to my college's town and i'll be living at a friends house for a couple weeks, going to training for my job, blah blah blah and then i'll move into my ACTUAL apartment and then it's CLASSTIME BABEY!!!  
i'm real excited to go back to school lol summer is so boring but also damn i gotta finish my zine pieces.
> 
> enjoy some soft and subtle hurt/comfort

“He sold us out?” Pidge shouts over the wind.

“Kind of. Yes and no.”

“What do you mean yes and no?!? He sold us out!” She’s having trouble calming her breathing. “I-” can’t do this.

_You have to,_ she tells herself. _Think of Lance._

“I can’t beat Thace in a fight,” Keith tells her. “I can’t beat a lot of people in a fight, actually. He sold us out because he’s Galra, but he’s also my friend. He let us get away.”

“Oh, _that’s_ reassuring,” Pidge shrills into the air, tucking herself even lower. “What an easy getaway he so kindly _allowed_ us to have.” Then she glares at Keith’s gloved hands on the grips. “You told me to get the gun, and then you took it right out of my hands.”

“That’s because I can actually shoot a gun,” he yells back over the wind.

“Then why’d you make _me_ get it?!”

“It’s not that hard to figure out. If we got separated, then it was better that you had it.”

Pidge can’t take it. “Pull over! Please! Just stop the bike, pull over for a second.”

Keith stays silent, and then a heartbeat later they’re slowing down and Keith curves into the lot of a 7-Eleven.

Pidge jumps off immediately, stumbling, her palm slapping against the nearest car for balance.

“Keith, I don’t- I don’t want _you_ hurt either,” she says, and then she’s sobbing, sinking to her knees and curling up, head bent low to the ground.

Keith kneels down to her level.

“Pidge.”

She hunches her back even lower, watching her tears splash onto the road under her palms.

“Pidge, I know this isn’t easy. I know what Lance means to you. And we’re going to get him back.” His hand finds her shoulder. “I may not get along great with the guy, but I don’t want him at the hands of the Galra either, and I’m going to help you get him back, okay? You can do this.”

She nods, a small motion, but Keith’s expert at reading subtle body language. He squeezes her shoulder. “I’ll get you a slushie, yeah?”

She nods again, harder this time. “Cherry.”

“Okay.”

-

The cold and the sour-sweetness drives her nerves away a little. She sits behind Keith, air blowing her bangs into her eyes, sipping slowly with one arm wrapped tightly around Keith’s waist. The helmet is back on her head, visor up, and her eyes are drier, heart calmer.

It’s not really okay, but she’s glad she doesn’t have to do this alone. She’s glad she has Keith with her, because god knows she wouldn't have made it this far without him - and she’s glad she has a slushie, even when the world is all bleak and terrifying without Lance in it.

Pidge closes her eyes and takes another sip, leaning her head against Keith’s back.

-

“We’ve gotta go get him tonight,” Pidge says, sitting at Keith’s table with pasta. He frowns at her from the kitchen where he’s cleaning up.

“Yeah… okay.”

She looks up in surprise. “Oh? I kinda expected you to say no.”

He sighs, and then says nothing. When he sits down with his own bowl, Pidge’s voice is shaking, but she pushes on anyway. “What’s the plan, then?”

Keith drums his fingers against the table, slips them under the lip to stroke the underside, brings them back up and drums them again. “We go in, find Lance, get out,” he says simply.

Pidge frowns at him. “You had so much to talk about when we were getting ready to see your _friend._ That’s all you’ve got now?”

Keith chews his cheek. “Pretty much. I can get you to Acxa’s house, it’s usually unlocked. You can’t be seen. You’ll get in through the back entrance to the basement - if Lance isn’t in the basement, he’s on the second story.” Pidge nods, listening carefully. “That’s assuming he isn’t already… well, that’s assuming Thace gave us solid intel.” He clears his throat. “You’ll get to Lance, get him out. I’ll be waiting, bike ready to go. We don’t spend any more time than necessary.”

“I thought…” she hesitates. How does she… say this?

“Shiro was a lot more valuable to the Galra than Lance is,” Keith answers for her, voice quiet. Pidge blinks, surprised he caught on to what she was trying to say. “It took me a long time to even find him, and a lot of things went wrong at every stage of the plan. This shouldn’t be too hard, when you compare it to… what I went through last time.”

Pidge’s eyes are wide, and she lowers them, busying herself with her pasta. Keith doesn’t open up much, so best to give him the time to say what he wanted to say.

“Acxa’s house isn’t so close to HQ as to be heavily crowded, but it is pretty regularly visited. If we’re careful, we can slip in and out without notice, and…” he sighs. “Lance would still remain a target for the Galra, after we got him, but. He won’t be living with them, at least.”

She nods, small movements, forcing another bite of pasta up to her mouth. “So, how do you know so much about this girl Acxa in the first place?”

He swallows, pauses, takes another bite, swallows again. “She’s my half sister.”

Oh.

That was one thing Pidge would never have gotten from all her cyber-stalking. Keith wasn’t involved with the Galra and his background was fairly easy to check, but his parents less so, and any extended family was pretty much nonexistent, as far as Pidge could tell.

She doesn’t say anything in response, just chews her suddenly tasteless food. Keith stands up and goes over to the radio on the table in the corner, switching it on to play some soft music before coming back and settling back into his spot with a huff of air.

“I don’t think she will turn me in,” he says. “But she might. She’s pretty high up on the ladder. But family is…” he stares at the table for a bit, like it’s telling him what to say. “Weird.”

Pidge forces a smile. “Well, lucky for us, right? I’m really glad you’re helping me, Keith.”

He rolls his eyes and starts eating again. “Yeah, or you’d be dead.”

“Just accept the gratitude,” she laughs, exasperated. He shoots her a smile - a real one, this time, exhaling a laugh through his nose before going back to his pasta. They finish the rest of their meal in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> next update happens hopefully in a week or so. [yell at me on tumblr](https://viraseii.tumblr.com/) if i forget or something


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